“Get every body out of the building!” said a commanding voice, owned by a man who had just arrived.

“Of course!  That’s what we have just been doing,” said a second.

The cry now arose, “Two boys in the mill!”

Some one said that the boys had made their escape with the other operatives, but had gone back into one of the lower stories after their overcoats.

“Boys in the mill!” rang out the fearful cry.

The owner of the commanding voice rushed forward into the lower entry of the mill, swinging an ax.  Will Somers found him at the door trying to cut round the latch.

“What’s that for?” asked Will.

“Want to get ’em out, you fool!”

“Have you tried the door?”

“N—­n—­o.”

Will seized it, pulled it, and open it came!

Will was brave, and, in such an emergency as the present, generally took his wits with him.  The room was full of smoke.  He stepped in and shouted, but there was no response.  While at the door of the first room, he heard some one behind saying, “Boys in the next story, they say.”  Will turned and sprang up stairs.  Just ahead was the person who had recently spoken.  The proprietor of the commanding voice was now retreating, his ax over his shoulder, stepping proudly out in the consciousness that he had done a memorable thing.  Up the stairs went Will and his companion, the smoke thickening about them.  Reaching the second floor and pushing open the door of the adjoining room, they saw—­was it a boy on the floor?  He had evidently striven to gain the door, but when he had almost reached it, had succumbed to the suffocating smoke, falling with arms stretched out toward the goal he desired to secure.  And who was it running toward them, boy or man, the smoke parting about him as he advanced, then closing up again?  It was a boy rushing for the door, trying to make his way through the smoke which, light as it was, proved too heavy a burden for him, for down he dropped, felling flat upon his face.  It was the work of a moment apparently to seize the boys and carry them out into the entry.

“Thank God for strong arms!” said Will Somers, lifting one boy and starting off with him.

“Yes, thank Him for every thing good,” answered his companion, shouldering the other prize.  They descended the stairs.  How the smoke had increased!  They had been absent longer than they thought, and in that time the fire was rapidly advancing toward them.  They heard a loud noise without, a shout rising above the crackle and roar of the flames.  Then voices were heard at the foot of the stairs:  “Come this way!  Quick!  Hurry!” As Will passed through the lower entry, he chanced to glance into the room whose door had been left open by the knight of the ax.  A draft had been created, and Will could see that the flames were springing toward the outer air.

“This way!  Hurry!” people were shouting, and through the almost blinding, bewildering, suffocating smoke, Will and his companion bore the trophies they had snatched from the flames.